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6.24.2016

morning light

“When God demanded light,

he didn’t banish darkness.

Instead, he invented

ebony and crows . . . “ – Why Are Your Poems So Dark, Linda Pastan

“Pensive”
is a word that has been used to describe me, yet my father referred to me as someone
who would look for a pony when presented with a mound of manure. Sometimes I’ve
speculated that my “pensive Pollyanna” emerged from curiously studying and
occasionally “excavating” the mound.

At
times, my work is construed as “dark”, and every now and then, I’ve wondered if
I chose an artistic career so I might examine some of the places I’ve feared
most. Having grown up in a small town, in a relatively conventional family, my experiences
were limited. Yet even then, I silently questioned many proclaimed truths. Only
later did my creative work shed light on some of life’s darker regions,
challenging many of my long-held beliefs.

I think this piece, drenched each day in the studio’s
diffused morning light, evolved from that shadowy plane. It began simply, but grew
in complexity as I layered each item-- the shattered body, the dark butterflies,
the Sylvia Plath verse. But not until I selected the final piece, a broken chain,
did it reach its unexpected conclusion. The chain was what remained of a
necklace I’d received from a family friend, someone who’d brightened my childhood
days. Yet the fragment’s selection reminded me that my friend, like Plath, had
taken her own life-- unbeknownst to me, sitting under a tree.

Throughout
my lifetime, I’ve found my closest friends to be those who shared the darkness
as well as the light. Conversely, I’ve found my greatest betrayals to be the moments
I was unwilling to stand in the dark with another.Perhaps my artistic work urges me to confront
that deficit.

The
day I received an "award of excellence" for this piece, I felt both an affirmation
for my work and my friend- an acceptance, or perhaps a reconciliation of some
of the dark and light of our lives. It seemed a creative force had been cast
upon us, gently freeing us from crippling expectations, many of which were our own. We, too, for a brief
moment, seemed awash in the morning light.